


On a Beach in Hawaii

by Lecavayay



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), Bringing in a Third, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:39:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7594843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lecavayay/pseuds/Lecavayay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In all the years they’ve been coming to Maui, they’ve never thought to explore the island. They’d often barely make it out of bed long enough to crawl to the beach and then back to the bar. They came here to forget about work and the crushing pressure of running their own business. They came here to spend their money and meet a bunch of pretty people who liked them because they had table service. They came to take a lot of tan, shirtless pictures and live up to their playboy reputations. </p><p>It only took about two and half miles in Carl's car for Derick to realize they’d been doing it wrong this whole time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a Beach in Hawaii

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aqualined (inabstract)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inabstract/gifts).



Derick's mouth is dry when he wakes up, tongue stuck to the roof of it in way that means he probably snored the entire night. The pillow he's face down in is soft and he slides his hands under it to feel the cool side.

Distantly he thinks he can hear the soft crash of waves against the beach; the windows must have been left open all night. He breathes in the slightly salty air and stretches out his legs, tangled in the sheets. A pair of thin arms wrap around his chest, bright orange nails catching his eye.

He rolls into the woman's – Cassidy, he's pretty sure – embrace and smiles at her smudged eyeliner. "Morning, beautiful."

She drags her nails down his spine and he rewards her with a kiss, tucking a few strands of her blonde hair behind her ear. She's twining one of her legs through his when another woman – Leni? Lani. - jumps on the bed in nothing but her underwear.

"Good, you're up. I was going to order some room service," she says, placing her small hand in the curve of Cassidy's waist. "What do you want, babe?"

Derick really isn't sure who she's talking to, distracted by a third woman drying her hair while wearing one of those hotel-grade fuzzy white robes. He definitely doesn't remember her name.

"Uh, get whatever you want and like, a plate of bacon for me, okay?" he says, slipping out of bed and pulling on the first pair of shorts he sees. "I'll be right back."

The tile of the hotel suite is cold against his bare feet and wow, he drank a lot last night. He grabs his sunglasses off the table and puts them on, toning down the bright Hawaiian sun beaming in through the windows.

He spots Mats sitting straight up in a cushy armchair near the sliding glass door to the balcony, his own hangover sunglasses on and the sports section of the newspaper resting in his lap. He's completely asleep.

Derick takes it upon himself to replace the paper with his ass, pushing Mats' sunglasses up into his tangled hair just to see his eyes blink open. "Morning."

"Hey," he says, voice gravely from sleep.

"How did we end up with three women in our bed?"

Mats' smile widens slowly, like he's remembering the night in a trickle instead of all at once. "We're just that good, elskling."

“I know that’s not true.”

They went to the club after they checked in last night and spent a small fortune on bottle service and a cozy little booth in the back corner. Derick remembers the constant flow of beautiful women taking up the space next to him while Mats did body shots off of Lani. He’s pretty sure they took a limo home. There was a lot of champagne.

Mats tilts his chin up, angling for a kiss and Derick sinks into it even though he knows his breath will be absolutely kicking. He hums and snuggles into the curve of Mats’ neck. “We’re going to have to nap these hangovers off.”

“That’s what the beach is for.”

There’s a knock on the door and Derick hopes the girl rushing to answer it is the one wearing the robe. “C’mon, I think they got us bacon.”

“The bacon will keep,” he says, wrapping his arms around Derick’s hips, fingertips dipping under the elastic of his shorts.

“Let go of me, you octopus.”

There’s a chorus of giggling filtering in from the bedroom and he’s pretty sure he can smell coffee. He really wants some coffee. Bright orange fingernails curve around his shoulders.

“Your waffles are going to get cold,” Cassidy says.

Derick raises his eyebrows and watches Mats relent. Waffles it is.

 

By the time the sun is high overhead and the scent of the ocean is baking in the sand, they’ve claimed a pair of chairs and started the process of sweating out their alcohol. The girls left them earlier to go on a boat tour with an offer to meet up again later that night.

Derick’s not saying they weren’t great, but he’s not going to limit himself here.

“I’m getting in,” Mats says. “If I don’t come back, I’ve decided to float out to sea.”

“Yeah, okay. You do that.” He doesn’t even open his eyes, just waves his hand in the direction he thinks Mats is going.

He settles a little lower into his chair and listens to the water crash against the beach. He probably needs to reload on sunscreen in a minute, should’ve asked Mats to do his back before he got all wet. He probably also needs to check his email and go over the weekly numbers Amanda sent. Maybe he'll make Mats do it instead.

“Can I get you anything?” a woman with a colorful scarf wrapped around her hips asks. She’s got a tray with three tropical looking drinks on it, complete with little paper umbrellas. Derick hesitates, thinking a daiquiri would probably taste pretty good right now.

“Excuse me, are you Derick?”

He turns to face the very blond, very fit, very wet man the question belonged to. “I sure am,” he says, sitting up with a grin. “Who’s asking?”

“Um. I think I pulled your boyfriend out of the water? He went under after a pretty big wave.”

“What?” He’s on his feet in an instant, thoughts of work and a daiquiri long gone. “Is he okay? Where is he?”

The beautiful golden man points in the direction of Mats, looking a bit like a beached whale on the sand. He’s got his hands covering his face but looks to still be breathing. “He’s going to be fine.”

Derick jogs over to where he’s lying, dropping down to his knees as another wave slaps against the sand. “Are you okay? Mats? Babe?”

Mats groans and drops his hands from his face. There’s a fresh cut on his forehead right near his temple.

“You might want to take him to a hospital to get checked out,” the blonde savior offers, casting a shadow over them. “I don’t know how hard he hit his head.”

“Hey, Mats. Talk to me.” He presses his palm to Mats’ chest just to feel his heartbeat, his own slowing down a bit.

“’m fine.”

“You sure?”

He nods. “Just a little…” He wiggles his hand in the air. Derick doesn’t know what that means.

“He probably feels like he’s been in a washing machine.”

He’d forgotten Mats’ rescuer was still there, standing behind his shoulder, long hair dripping saltwater. “I don’t know how to thank you,” he says.

“Kiss ‘im,” Mats says. “You should definitely, totally kiss him.”

Derick smiles. “As you can see, I think he’s going to be fine.”

“I’d do it myself but I picked Lani so it’s your turn,” Mats rambles, pressing his cheek into Derick’s thigh.

“Are you really trying to wingman me right after almost dying?”

“Pretend like you need help carrying me to our room.”

The tanned god laughs and Derick refuses to look at his practically perfect smile at a time like this.

“I’m not carrying you anywhere, get up.”

Derick helps Mats to sitting and then to standing, bracing him as he rediscovers his balance. The, uh, the… “I’m running out of descriptions for you in my head, what’s your name?”

“Carl.”

Carl leans close to inspect the cut on Mats’ head. “It shouldn’t need stitches. Looks pretty superficial.”

“Are you a doctor _and_ a god?” Derick regrets the words immediately.

“I wanted to be an EMT for a while,” he replies. “Took some classes.”

“What happened?”

Carl smiles. “Now I’m just a god, I guess.”

So it’s possible Derick wants to kiss him.

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t get his number,” Mats laments for at least the third time, sitting on the lid of the toilet.

Derick rolls his eyes and cleans the cut on his temple with the little first aid kit from the hotel lobby.

“He was perfect. And you let him just walk away.”

Carl was right, the cut is pretty superficial. “Maybe he’ll be at the beach tomorrow.”

“Okay, and I’ll just pretend to drown again to get his attention,” he snarks.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

Mats huffs, getting up to examine the band-aid. “I’m going to get a tan line from this.”

“Just keep it on for today. Please.” Derick washes his hands after throwing away the little strips of paper from the bandage.

“Fine.” Mats wraps his arms around Derick’s waist and kisses his chin. “I kind of like it when you take care of me.”

“Don’t ever try to die on me ever again.”

“Okay.”

“You’re buying me a drink.”

“Margaritas from that little bar on the beach?” Mats suggests. "We can oogle the pretty people."

Derick presses a kiss into his hair and follows him out of the bathroom.

 

The bar is surrounded by palm trees and bushes of bright flowers and spills right out onto the sand. Derick claims one of the empty pink picnic tables while Mats weaves his way to the bartender.  There’s a nice breeze that cuts through the heat but he still takes off his shirt to try and soak up more sun, tilting his face to the near-cloudless sky. He can hear the group playing volleyball a little closer to the water, their shouts and laughter floating in on the wind.

“Heads up!”

Derick opens his eyes just in time to see the white ball heading his way. It bounces off his shoulder as he cowers away from the impact. Not his best moment.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” an oddly familiar voice asks.

“What? Yeah I’m…I’m fine. Carl.”

Carl’s smile really is perfect. “Oh, hey,” he says, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Hi.”

Derick’s gaze follows the curve of Carl’s neck and shoulders, lingers on the muscle there, so tan and almost glistening, a little sandy. The sun is in a great place to cast shadows against his collarbones and the dip of his pecs.

“Is, uh, was Mats okay?”

He blinks, coming back to himself. “He’s fine. Just get--.”

“They were out of the mango flavor you like so I got you strawberry,” Mats says, setting down a literal bucket of margarita in front of him.

The three of them fall silent until Mats takes a good look at Carl. “Oh!”

“I hit him with a volleyball,” Carl offers as an explanation. “I should probably get back to my game.”

Mats’ eyes widen in Derick’s general direction, an unsubtle hint of what he wants him to do. “You should join us when you’re done. The least I can do is buy you a drink. For your help.”

There’s a tense silence when Derick thinks Carl might actually say no, but then he shifts the ball to his other hip and says, “Okay, we’re almost done. Shouldn’t be too long.”

Mats fans himself when Carl turns to head back to his friends, back muscles and ass fully on display. “We’re going to woo the hell out of him.”

Derick chokes on the frozen margarita in his mouth. “Oh?’

“Look at you, you look like I did the first time I saw you.”

Derick flushes. “Am I really that red?”

“Like a cherry, babe.”

“He’s too pretty for us,” he says, sighing into his drink.

They both turn to gaze in the general direction of Carl and his golden skin, a little sweaty now that he’s back in the game. Derick wonders how his friends can be so nonchalant about hanging out with the most beautiful man on this side of the island.

“I think he’ll go for it.”

Carl jogs over to grab the ball that’s rolled back their way and honestly, his swim trucks couldn’t get much lower. No. No, they _could_ , and Derick would really like to see that. “Okay, we can woo him.”

“Cheers!” Mats lifts his giant margarita with both hands and clanks it against Derick’s.

 

The sun starts its way down toward the horizon after one drink turns into Mats insisting they all lay in the sand and talk about their favorite things, about running a business, about living on the island. Carl’s propped up on his elbows laughing about something Derick said, tipping his head back and letting his hair fall down between his shoulders blades.

Derick wants to get his mouth on that neck.

“Finish up,” Carl says suddenly, popping up to his feet. “We’re gonna go climb a cliff.”

“What?”

“It’s not that far of a drive. You’ll love it.”

“Drive?” Mats asks, standing up and brushing the sand off his legs.

“Pay your tab and meet me in the parking lot.”

Mats does as he’s told while Derick stays on the beach, watching Carl’s bare feet kick up the sand behind him. He gets distracted by the flex of his calves until Mats falls into his lap and tugs his lips to his, biting just enough to feel.

“Hi.”

Derick would be fine laying here with Mats on top of him for the foreseeable future, his lips mapping out the shape of his jaw and neck and the space behind his ear but, “I love you. Let’s go climb a cliff.”

“Yeah.” The thrill of the chase always gets Mats riled up.

Carl is waiting for them leaned against a little red car that’s seen better days, surfboard strapped to the roof. It suits him, somehow, and he smiles when he spots them, walking around to get into the driver’s seat.

Mats jumps in the back and Derick takes a breath before joining Carl in the front. There’s a little Swedish flag hanging from the rearview mirror and the engine is noisy when he turns the key. Something smooth and slow is on the radio and it’s just loud enough to hear with the windows down.

“How far away is this place?”

Carl ducks down under the visor flap to point. “Just there.”

That’s a pretty big cliff. Mats isn’t going to like it. “And we’re going to the top?”

“It’s the best view of the sunset in the area.”

 

The top is not an easy hike and Derick really thinks he would’ve done better if he wasn’t wearing flip flops. Mats pulled ahead with Carl, going all in before his brain could tell him the cliff was way too high to be safe.

They’re both waiting for him when he reaches the peak, staring out over the ocean already tinted with the colors of the sun. “Wow.”

“Told you,” Carl says, stepping back from the edge so Derick can take his place.

The water endlessly stretches out in front of him, little ripples of white as the waves keep crashing in against the rocks below. The wind is stronger up this high and he watches the thin clouds move across the orange and pink sky.

“I bet you haven’t seen half of what makes this place amazing.”

“You gonna show us what we’ve been missing?” Derick asks, wishing he had a fancy camera to capture this exact moment in perfect clarity.

“Oh, I’d happily blow your mind.”

Derick ducks his head to hide his smile.

“You could start by coming back to our room tonight,” Mats offers from behind them, having gotten his fill of heights for the time being..

“Well sure,” Carl agrees easily. “But the chase is half the fun, right?”

“So you’re a dinner and a movie kind of guy? We can work with that,” Derick says.

Carl flicks his gaze between the two of them, looking to be pondering some sort of question. “And you’re…”

“Together,” Mats finishes. “But very, _very_ open.”

“Okay.”

The word lingers in the air around them, warm against their skin as the sun continues to slip beneath the horizon. Derick doesn’t want to break the silence. He can feel Carl’s eyes on his back, likes the weight of them.

“We can start now,” Carl says, low and soft. “If you wanted.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be able to top this.”

Derick isn’t expecting Carl to grab his hand and pull him back the way they came, twisting down the rocky path just slowly enough that he can keep up. He keeps his hand gripped tightly in Carl’s until they reach a flat landing that still overlooks the water, darker now that the sun is nearly gone.

“You ever jump before?”

“Into the water?” Derick asks.

“Yes, into the water.”

He swallows the lump of initial fear that creeps up into his throat. “Uh, Mats doesn’t really…he’s not a big fan of stuff like this.”

“But what about you?”

And there’s something in Carl’s eyes that makes everything settle – the swirling anxiety in his chest, the fluttering in his stomach, the ripple of goosebumps that shot down his arms. “Okay.”

“What are you doing?” Mats asks, reaching the landing just in time to watch Carl take off his shirt. “Wait, here? We’re doing this _here_?”

“You’re not allowed to jump,” Carl says, nodding toward the band-aid on Mats’ forehead. “Not with that injury.”

“ _Jump_?! Derick, no.”

“I’ll be fine,” he says, mostly believing it. “He’s gonna go first and I’ll be fine. There aren’t any rocks on this side.”

“We really can’t just go back to the hotel room and bang?”

Carl laughs and kicks off his shoes. “I’ll see you in the water. Go feet first, okay?”

Derick nods and then watches as Carl jumps off the ledge. He falls until he splashes into the water, barely audible from where they’re standing. Mats grips Derick’s arm tightly until Carl’s blonde head pops back up and he gives them a wave.

“Guess that’s my cue.”

“Dude,” Mats says. “Please don’t die.”

He smacks a kiss on his lips and takes a short running start, heart slipping into his throat when his feet leave the cliff and he’s falling, falling, falling, nothing but water below him. It’s a shock, cold, when he hits and he has just enough brain power not to gasp and suck in a mouthful of salt water.

He’s surrounded completely by the dark ocean, everything suddenly silent. And then he’s pushing for the top, fighting to break through the surface and breathe. He’s not sure he’ll make it, afraid to open his eyes to see how close he is, if he’s even going in the right direction…

Arms wrap around his chest and pull him into the open air. He gulps in as much oxygen as he can while Carl keeps him afloat, his body zinging with adrenaline.

“You’re both fucking crazy!” a distant shout comes.

“Maybe that was a little advanced for a first time,” Carl apologizes, arm still wrapped around Derick’s chest, holding him close.

“That was _amazing_.”

The sun left behind just a smear of purple and the stars are almost out in full force, thousands of them, uncountable. It’s outstanding away from all the soft lights of the resort. He kind of wishes Mats was in the water with them too, floating with Carl’s arms around him looking at the dark, endless sky.

“C’mon, help me out here.”

Derick kicks his feet and lets himself be pulled to shore where he lays in the sand for a minute, trying to pick out the constellations he knows.

“I should, uh, probably get you home,” Carl says, standing over him.

“We’re not going to turn into pumpkins.”

“Yeah, but you’ve gotta get a good night’s rest for what I have planned tomorrow.”

Something in Derick’s stomach flips over and he smiles. “And what’s that, eh?”

“A surprise.”

Mats eventually stomps over and drops their pile of clothing in the sand next to Derick, who is totally distracted by Carl’s entire face. “Quit looking at him like that, he’s Stockholming you.”

“He’s right,” Carl says, slipping back into his shirt. “But you’re pretty easy for it.”

Mats throws his hands up and heads for the car. Derick can just barely hear what he’s mumbling. “Jumping off cliffs like you’re a fucking...wilderness man or something. Some Hawaiian-Swedish demi god. Idiot.”

He laughs, tugging on his shirt and picking out his flip flops from the pile. “I guess I am pretty easy.”

“Or maybe I’m just really, really good,” Carl says, helping him to his feet.

Derick thinks it’s probably a little bit of both.

 

Bright and early the next morning, the sun just barely above the horizon, Derick’s phone chirps with a text. He squints at it in the muted light and sighs.

“G’up, it’s Carl,” he groans, nudging Mats with his elbow.

“Hm?”

“He’s gonna be here in like, half an hour. Get up.”

Mats wraps his arms around Derick’s waist and holds as tightly as he can. “Five more minutes?”

He rolls into Mats’ embrace and lets him snuggle in under his chin. Even though they were asleep well before their usual bedtime, the eight-thirty wakeup call is rough when the bed is so soft and perfectly warm. It’s vacation. No one should be up this early. “Five more minutes.”

He doesn’t trust himself to close his eyes, so he drags his fingers through Mats’ hair until it’s not so tangled. He gets another text.

_I’ll be waiting for you out front._

“C’mon, I’ll blow you in the shower,” he offers, shaking Mats awake again.

“You say the nicest things.”

 

Carl’s little red car is sitting exactly where he said it would be and Derick can hear the music he’s blasting from the lobby entrance. He doesn’t have his surfboard with him since he’s put the top down and Derick’s really digging the pale pink tank top he’s wearing.

“I’m pretty sure he’s wooing us,” Mats says, slipping on his sunglasses. “Instead of the other way around. Just so you know.”

“Let it happen, babe.”

The sun is warm when they step out of the shade of the hotel and Carl greets them with a smile. “Neither of you get car sick, right?”

They both shake their heads.

“Perfect, let’s go.”

In all the years they’ve been coming to Maui, they’ve never thought to explore the island. They’d often barely make it out of bed long enough to crawl to the beach and then back to the bar. They came here to forget about work and the crushing pressure of running their own business. They came here to spend their money and meet a bunch of pretty people who liked them because they had table service. They came to take a lot of tan, shirtless pictures and live up to their playboy reputations.  
  
It only took about two and half miles for Derick to realize they’d been doing it wrong this whole time.

“I never asked,” he says, rolling his head to face Carl. “What’s your day job?”

“I was on the circuit until last year, spent most of my time in Cali. But, uh, this place just kind of dug its claws into me and I couldn’t leave.”

“The circuit?” Mats asks, leaning up from the backseat.

“Surfing. I competed for six years.”

“You any good?” Derick chirps.

Carl smiles. “Could’ve been better. I retired number 62 in the world.”

Mats whistles, clearly impressed, and stretches back out along his seat.

“I can see how you wouldn’t want to leave this place,” Derick says, indicating the thick greenery lining the twisted road they’re on. Every now and then, the trees open up so they can see the ocean and it almost takes his breath away.

“I’m just glad the rain held off. That would’ve ruined things.”

The road eventually turns inland and winds up through the mountains, away from all the places overrun with tourists. It’s surprisingly quiet beyond the radio and the rumble of the car’s engine and Derick feels sleep trying to tug his eyes closed. Mats has already given up in the backseat, hat pulled down over his face.

“You can sleep,” Carl says. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“Where’s there?”

“You’ll see.”

He sighs and watches the trees fly by. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“I won’t let you.”

He thinks about how comfortable this all feels as he shuts his eyes, how natural it feels to drop his hand on top of Carl’s and drift off with the motion of the car.

 

"We're here." It's whispered right next to Derick’s ear, breath soft and warm. Carl's lips barely brush the skin and he fights a shiver. 

“Hi.”

Carl tosses him an orange and points to the fruit salad on the dashboard in front of him. “Eat. The hike’s not long but I don’t want you getting hungry on me.”

“I’ll even give you some of my pineapple,” Mats says from the back, already halfway done with the cup of fruit in his hand.

They’re parked under a tree near a little shack where Carl, presumably, got their snacks. It smells wet but not in the same way as the ocean; most of the ground is shaded from the sun.

“Does this hike require real shoes?”

Mats tosses a ball of socks at him. “Yes. You’re not twisting your ankle because you refuse to enclose your toes.”

“Fine.”

Carl smiles as Derick wrestles his tennis shoes onto his feet, peeling his orange in one continuous rind because he’s perfect.

“There. I have put shoes on. I’m ready.”

"Eat. And then we'll get going."

 

The hike isn't far or difficult, the footpath well worn by those who had come before them. It's mostly all green and dirt until Derick starts to hear something in the distance and Carl runs up ahead.

"Okay," he says, pointing to the spot he's standing in. "Come here and close your eyes. I'm going to lead you the rest of the way. It's not far."

Derick looks to Mats who seems just as skeptical.

"Oh c'mon. You jumped off a cliff with me. I promise I won't let you run into a tree."

That's fair. So Derick closes his eyes and takes Mats' hand, squeezing just a little. "Okay."

It's interesting, being blindly led. Carl's voice calls out soft commands – big step, watch the tree root, a little downhill here – as the roaring sound he'd heard before crescendos into clarity.

"Open your eyes."

The waterfalls are side-by-side, rushing fast into the clear pool below them. It's beautiful like the stars were the night before, breathtaking. He glances over to Mats and smiles at his awed expression.

"Worth the close-toed shoes?"

Derick wants to wipe the knowing smirk right off Carl's face. Preferably with his lips.

"It's really nice," Mats says. "I feel like an idiot for never thinking about anything past the beaches and the bars."

"You've obviously never had the right tour guide."

"Good thing I tried to drown, yeah?"

Despite the stunning beauty of nature, Derick could think of a place he'd much rather be with Carl. Possibly on his knees in the bedroom of their hotel suite. Or flat on his back in the bed. Or bent over the railing of their balcony for all the world to see if they just looked up.

He'd imagined Carl's lips might be salty like the ocean he spends so much time in, but when he finally leans across the space between them and presses his mouth against his, they’re sweet like the orange he just ate. Carl sucks in a sharp breath, opening up for Derick to kiss him as deeply as he's wanted to since he saw him dripping wet yesterday afternoon.

He twines his fingers through Carl's hair and gently turns him toward Mats, who rocks up on his toes just enough to meet Carl's lips. The way he tilts his head back to let Carl take control might rival the waterfalls behind them in beauty.

"So, uh," Mats says, barely pulling away. "Now that that's settled, you got anything else up your sleeve? Or are you finally going to put us out of our misery and lets us take you to our room?"

Bless Mats and his wingman skills.

"Technically this is only the second date, y'know," Carl says, tucking Mats' hair behind his ear. "I had big plans to take you paddleboarding."

"As much fun as that soun--."

"The tour of our suite can be the third date,” Derick says, cutting off Mats’ own protest. “Let’s go.”

Neither of them have to be told twice and the drive back to the resort is the worst kind of foreplay – unable to kiss or touch and looking at the way Carl’s hair twists in the wind just doesn’t cut it. Now that Derick's had a taste he can't keep himself from wanting more. From wanting it all.

"Valet it," he says when they finally get back. "We'll charge it to the room."

Carl seems hesitant to hand the keys over to the hotel employee and Derick's not having any of that. He starts unbuttoning his shirt as he walks backwards toward the lobby, revealing the cut of his chest and abs. He works hard. He knows he looks good. He hopes he looks irresistible.

Carl tosses the keys in the general direction of the valet and follows him into the hotel, Mats close on his heels.

The elevator up to the sixteenth floor is tense, the space between the three of them thrumming with anticipation, all of them fighting the need to close to the distance. Derick almost does it, almost steps into Carl’s space and presses him up against the mirrored glass wall but the doors open before he has the chance.

Mats is in the lead, tugging the key out of his wallet and shoving through the door once it’s open. Carl and Derick crash through behind him, Derick’s fingers already tugging at Carl’s shirt, lifting it up and over his stomach, trying to get it over his head without letting go of his lips.

“Fuck, your mouth,” Carl sighs, fingers clutching at Derick’s jaw.

“Sure,” he says, pushing him toward the bed and dropping to his knees.

Mats crawls behind Carl, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and biting kisses against his neck. He peels off Carl’s tank and whispers the question, “Are you sure?”

Derick licks his lips in anticipation.

“Yes.”

He smiles as he tugs Carl’s shorts down off his hips, thumb brushing along the cut of them. He licks at the skin there, sucks a mark into the muscle and wishes he could taste every inch of him.

“You can pull my hair,” he says, just before sucking Carl down.

 

Derick stirs hours later when it’s dark outside and everything is cool to the touch. Mats is curled up next to him, his hair messy against the pillow and breathing deeply in sleep. He reaches toward the other side of the bed and finds it empty.

The bathroom light isn’t on but the soft white curtains that frame the balcony doors are billowing slightly and he can smell the ocean if he breathes deeply enough.  

He slips on a pair of shorts and joins Carl on the balcony, arms crossed and resting on the railing. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Thinking too much.”

“About what?”

Carl sighs, shoulders sagging a little. “I’m not good at this.”

“I’d beg to differ,” he says, remembering the way it felt to have Carl inside of him.

“No, I mean… _this_. After all that.”

Derick rubs his eyes and sits down in one of the lounge chairs. “You’re going to have to be more concrete here.”

“I like you. And I don’t know how to stop.”

As it is wont to do, Derick’s stomach flutters at Carl’s words. “Why do you want to stop?”

That earns a sharp huff of breath. “You’re leaving the day after tomorrow.”

And that’s true, their long weekend is coming to an end.

“And it might sound crazy but…I don’t want to let you go.” Carl drags his fingers through his hair, deftly wrapping it up off his neck into a bun. “I just want to sit here in this moment until you get bored of me.”

“I don’t think you could ever bore me.” On most people, it would have been a line to get them back into bed, but with Carl...with Carl, Derick thinks it might actually be true.

“You guys are…amazing.”

Derick gets up, presses behind Carl to kiss the knob of his neck. “We think you’re kind of amazing, too.”

“Yeah?” Carl asks, turning around to face him.

“I don’t jump off of cliffs for just anyone.”

Carl’s hands settle low on Derick’s hips, fingers dipping down to brush across his ass. He leans into it and kisses him again, just along his jaw.

“I feel like this can’t be real.”

Derick tilts his face down to kiss him properly, deeply, everlasting.

He leads Carl back inside, hand in hand. He takes him to the bed where Mats is still asleep and lays him down. He maps out his skin with his lips and tongue and teeth, tries to show him how real it feels to him. That no matter the distance, they’re not going to forget about him any time soon. They can’t.

“Mmmf,” Mats groans, rolling close enough to run his hand down the plane of Carl’s chest. “Weren’t even gonna wake me up, huh? I see how it is.”

His voice is soft from sleep and Derick has to kiss him, has to lean down and press him into the mattress right next to Carl. “You can pick this time,” he says to the dip of Mats’ throat. “What do you want to see?”

“You wanna ride him? Bet you’re still open enough to take him. Bet he could just slide right in.”

And that’s one of Mats’ favorite things, when Derick’s still messy from the first time.

“Fuck, you’re both going to kill me,” Carl groans, reaching down to grip the base of his flushed dick.

“That would be quite a tragedy,” Derick says, catching the lube Mats throws at him. “Wanna watch you two kiss, put on a show for me.”

He waits until Mats has his fingers deep in Carl's hair, lips pressed together, before sliding down Carl’s dick. It's smooth, almost like they were made to fit that way. Carl's nails dig into the meat of his thigh and he gasps into Mats' mouth when Derick rolls his hips. The beauty of the island is really no match for the way Carl looks when he's falling apart and Derick wants to make sure he never forgets it.

 

The airport isn’t busy when they get there at the crack of dawn Monday morning. Carl had insisted that they let him drop them off and he pulls to a stop under the sign for Delta to help them unload their bags.

“This sucks,” he complains.

Derick smiles. “There is a reason god created Skype.”

“Not the same.”

“It’ll only be three weeks,” Mats says, dropping his duffle on the curb. “Don’t lose that confirmation email.”

“We’re going to make this work.” Derick punctuates his words with a lingering kiss probably too heated for public. “After New York, we’ll meet halfway. San Francisco.”

They had already argued about spending too much money flying Carl across the entire continental United States and argued again when he tried to rip the laptop out of Mats’ hands to put his own credit card information in.

The compromise was all a bit fuzzy after a final trio of orgasms and a lofty tip for the housekeeper who had to come in and clean up their mess.

“And then what?”

“We’re going to make this work,” Mats reiterates, leaning up to get his own kiss.

“Okay.”

Something settles in Derick to hear Carl finally say it. _Okay_. “Three weeks.”

“I’ve already started counting.”

The share another round of kisses and tight hugs and trying desperately to remember the way the ocean sits on Carl’s skin, the way his hair curls around his ears. How his eyes smile just before his lips do.

“Okay, we’re leaving.”

“Right, yes. There’s a plane to catch.”

Carl just laughs at them, circling back around to the driver’s side of his little red car. “ _A hui hou_.”

Derick waves and forces himself to turn toward the sliding glass doors, dragging his suitcase behind him. Three weeks is going to feel like a lifetime.


End file.
